The Savior-Wizard
by Dragyn1
Summary: This is the prologue, and sets up the back ground to the story. About the fall of Voldemort after his destructive reign of power. Review, flame, comment on writing, just as long as it's constructive. chapter 1/?, 2 soon
1. Voldemort's Fall

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything… I really hope no one sues me, cause I have no money. So I guess it wouldn't really be profitable, yay!  
  
Summary: Big fight in ring. Described better than that. Read it instead of deciding things by summaries, as it has things that is unable to be explained in a summary.  
  
Characters: In the prologue there's Harry, Ron, Voldemort, and another character. This chapter isn't really big on characters, its more the background-y exposition-y type of… thing (falls asleep in lit class a lot)  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
Harry Potter stood on top of a hill, looking down on the scene before him. 29 years old, he had deep crease-lines over his face, and his eyes were deep and worried. He gripped a short, wooden wand with his white knuckles.  
  
Next to him, his old friend Ron Weasley stood and looked even graver then he was. When they had been teenagers a long ago, he had been lanky and clumsy, but now Ron had transformed into the best Auror in the Ministry.  
  
But Ron's Auror skill, rivaling even Mad-Eye Moody's, was useless in the current world of wizardry. 15 years after Voldemort had reclaimed his body, he had returned. No one could stand up to him and his inner-circle of Death Eaters, now powerful beyond imagination. When they had disappeared, everyone had held their breath, waiting, and preparing. Slowly people began to think that he had died, some problem with the dark ritual he used to revitalize his spirit and remake his body.  
  
No one doubted that he was very much alive now. His inner-circle had returned with him, and they had marked the occasion with the destruction of Durmstrang, controlled by the run-away Death Eater Karkaroff. The massive fireball that had incinerated the school was only the beginning of the evil Voldemort had then inflicted upon the world.  
  
After all the hiding, the fighting, and all the friends that were dead, now it all came down to this. Below Harry and Ron, Voldemort stood in accepted dueling position. His robes glowed with spectral white; an irony lost on his enemy, standing before him. His opponent was a teenager, barely 16. He held a black, wooden staff, as long as a walking stick. Ollivander had worked on it in secret with the other master wandmakers the last 10 years, and it was the mightiest wand ever made, so powerful its emanations could not be contained in the small wands used by normal wizards. The boy radiated power, as did Voldemort, and as they raised their weapons, the boy the staff, Voldemort his bare hands, lightning almost seemed to roll off of them. Around them barely discernable auras of power, as hard to see as glass, flared up like colored fire.  
  
Their incredible power created a static electricity effect for a mile around. Harry could feel his hair, constantly disturbed, rising straight up. He felt a twinge of regret that he wasn't down there in the dueling circle. But no one could stand up to Voldemort after his mysterious transformation.  
  
"Not even the famed Harry Potter," He muttered, voice dripping with venom, though still under his breath. No one noticed, they were captivated with the display of power below.  
  
After seeing the demonstration of Voldemort's newfound power, though, no one blamed him for not standing in the ring.  
  
Instead of fighting, he had made himself useful the last few years forming alliances with the many magical creatures around the world. These agreements proved of no use, though, with the destruction of Karkaroff's school, all with a single word and a gesture from Voldemorts hands.  
  
But fortunately the Ministry of Magic had prepared something, just in case the rumors had been true. Taking a small baby, only a day old, but borne of two powerful but unknown wizards, Dumbledore and other great wizards infused them with magical power, making almost a new creature, a new race of human beings. The subsequent being was ethereal, and from birth he could cast spells that even aged wizards had trouble with. He could create his own sorcery; bending magic past its normal barriers and limitations. When Voldemort reappeared, they had fought, in a titanic duel. And the boy hadn't died; instead, he had fought the dark lord to a stalemate. After the fight, he earned the title, Savior-Wizard.  
  
The years passed and Voldemort's reign of terror had continued. He had reached an almost god-like level of power. Although the Ministry of Magic had attempted to keep the muggles out of it, they could hardly contain the spectacle of entire cities, wiped off the map by Voldemort. Soon the whole world was involved, and though wizards and witches were unknown to muggle society, they knew about magic.  
  
And even after the death that he had brought upon the world, Voldemort ran from battles with the Savior-Wizard. No one knew why, only that the lord of the Dark Arts was afraid, afraid of a child. And that gave them hope.  
  
Eventually though, Voldemort had stopped running. One night he Apparated into Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, his power forever breaking the enchantment placed over the grounds. Instead of killing the aged wizard, he had instead set a time and place for a great duel, to decide who should control the world, good or evil.  
  
Cedric, the Savior-Wizard, the greatest wizard in the world, stood five feet tall, still a boy. He was named for the famous death Voldemort had committed just before returning to his body. Cedric Diggory, the first victim of a new age of tyranny. Appearances were misleading though, and this boy was committed to the cause of fighting Voldemort, to the point of zealotry. He had trained his whole life for this battle. Since he was a baby, he had been trained to fight for good and justice. Mostly though, he was only trained to fight.  
  
But still one obstacle remained between Cedric and victory. Lord Voldemort could, through some twisted ceremony, do everything the Savior- Wizard could.  
  
Harry leaned forward to survey the battlefield. Showing respect, seeming oddly out of place for the situation, they bowed to each other; then raised their weapons, ready to launch into combat.  
  
The attack happened so fast; Harry could've blinked and missed it. Without incantation, a bolt of fiery red burst from Voldemort's hands and streaked towards Cedric. Equally fast, the youth raised a shield, effectively saving him from the destructive explosion. Light streaked back and forth. Sometimes, one would change tactics, and create an earthquake, complete with fire shooting up from cracks in the Earth, or icy rain, but still neither gained an upper foot.  
  
The battle was a true spectacle to behold, with neither side holding any advantage. If it wasn't so serious, if the outcome hadn't been the fate of the world, then Harry could've relaxed and enjoyed the match as though he was sitting in the stands below a Quiddatch match.  
  
After ten minutes of intense and lightning fast fighting, Cedric cast the famed Avada Kadavra spell, while simultaneously throwing a long, wicked dagger. Evading the spell, Voldemort caught the dagger in the ribs, and with an intense grimace of pain and surprise, mixed surreally on his pale serpentine face, he collapsed, blood leaking out to soak his white robes.  
  
Cedric stood still for a moment then moved towards the figure. Twice, the fallen man jerked, and quick as lightning, the teenager created a spectral shield, an incantation only the two in the dueling circle could master.  
  
But Voldemort stopped twitching, and Cedric stood over him.  
  
And one thought circulated through Harry's mind, and everyone else standing on the bluff, overlooking the battle. Could Voldemort be dead? Could the sword have vanquished the dark lord, where sorcery, power borne of the quill, failed?  
  
Harry and Ron looked at the old man next to them. His beard went down to his belt, and his eyes, once twinkling at the slightest merriment, watched the scene below solemnly. He turned, looking at the two, once his students, but now his friends.  
  
He shook his head, slowly, but surely. The message was clear.  
  
"Voldemort cannot die. I do not know what the blessed dagger Cedric threw did to him, but he has come within a hairs breadth of immortality. He has limits, far away, but they are there. And he knows them better than we; I think we should be on guard for a truly desperate attack."  
  
Below, Cedric seemed to share Dumbledore's opinion, and began muttering an incantation, preparing to try his best (which is a very considerable amount of power) at the task of destroying Lord Voldemort, once and for all.  
  
He stopped though, as everyone's breath drew in unison. Voldemort's body began to glow, so brightly everyone flinched and shielded their eyes. Every color of the spectrum shone in the light, brighter than the sun.  
  
All the watchers took a step back. Cedric appeared rattled, but then continued his incantation, pointing his staff at the fallen wizard.  
  
Two things happened in a second. First, Cedric completed his spell with a yell of "FIAR!" Causing a deadly inferno of flames to shoot out from the end of his staff, aimed straight at Voldemort. Second, the flames hit the fallen body, and the dueling ring exploded.  
  
A shockwave of white fire blasted outwards in a massive hemispheric explosion. The heat rolled over Harry, and the force threw him backwards onto the ground. He got up and looked at the dueling ring. The globe of fiery force had stopped just past the edge of the ring.  
  
No one remained in the circle; for not even the land had survived. A perfect crater, forming a perfect sphere radiating from the point Voldemort's body had lain.  
  
The watching wizards exploded in cheers, their screams of triumph went up to the clear blue sky. The laughed with relief, and cried in joy, and the entire time they kept cheering.  
  
Their cheers went out across the country, marking the last day they would be terrorized by Voldemort's evil power. The cheers also carried grief for the Savior-Wizard, but the sadness of his death was remote. He had done his job, fulfilled his one purpose in life. And with his sacrifice, he had destroyed his enemy, obliterating the evil that had covered the world because of Voldemort's reign of terror. Everyone knew Cedric would've been happy at the end, both of the men named Cedric who were dead under the thumb of Lord Voldemort. Even though the price of the world's freedom had been their lives.  
  
Harry Potter, the boy who had lived, looked up at the gray, cloudy sky. Although his joy was absolute, he knew in his heart something was wrong. He knew Voldemort was dead, gone forever, the power of the Savior- Wizard destroying him completely, but he also knew deep in his heart, that the world would soon see a greater and darker master. And this time, Cedric couldn't defeat the evil…  
  
  
  
Many more surprises planned, this will only get better, so… yay! Chapter 1 to be released after its edited more, and I will also update this. If you read all the way through, meaning you're reading this now, then please review it! Anything you want to say… barring flames :). I had a friend who flamed me on another story for no reason… not cool. But anyway, reviewers who say something worthwhile get a prize*! I love you reviewers! 


	2. Memories of Terror

Chapter 1: Memories of terror  
  
  
  
Once again Harry and Ron stood on the bluff above crater that had once been the dueling ring. The elements had begun to fill in the crater; the final resting place of whatever remained of Lord Voldemort after the mysterious shockwave they had seen one year before.  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"What are you thinking Harry? Is it about You-know-who?" Ron glanced at his friends face.  
  
"After 20 years, you still call him that." Harry's face was blank, as he starred out over the flat stretch of land. "He's dead Ron, nothing will bring him back. VOLDEMORT!" The last was yelled at the top of his lungs.  
  
Ron turned and looked too, but all he saw was that same blank dirt and patches of grass, little changed from when they had stood here before.  
  
"Why'd you come back Harry? There's nothing here anymore."  
  
"I… I don't know. I wanted to make sure."  
  
The wind came up, rustling the grass. The pair drew their robes closer together to ward off the chill wind. The gust blew Harry's bangs back, revealing a blank forehead.  
  
"I was afraid it might come back. When… If it returns, we'll know," Harry reached up and fingered his forehead, where the vivid lightning scar had been. It had vanished a month after the combatants had disappeared, and was further proof to all wizards around the world that Lord Voldemort was gone forever.  
  
The two men stayed, looking solemnly out over the field and the destroyed dueling ring. After a long time of silence, wondering what had happened to Voldemort and to Cedric, they departed, Disapparating quietly away.  
  
That night the moon loomed high and bright, almost full. At the stroke of midnight, another wizard Apparated quietly in. His cloak swished as he drew it around himself, to ward off the chill air, and a whispered word lit his wand up like a torch. He knelt by the depression, and after a long moment, began to weep.  
  
"My Master, my Master…" He choked out between sobs. Soon he was on all fours, sobbing, water running down his face and rolling into the hole that was Voldemort's final resting place.  
  
His balding head reflected the moons light as he stood, and illuminated his rat-like features, contorted in sorrow. He walked slowly away from the depression, then turned and ran off into the dark night. The wand light faded, and then went out completely. The tiny, broken wizard Disapparated.  
  
"Sugar Quill." The gargoyle sprang aside at the password. Harry smiled.  
  
"After all these years, Dumbledore, you're still using candy for your passwords."  
  
Everything around him was familiar, but it had been so long everything seemed almost distorted. The spiraling staircase, the portraits of the famous headmasters, the whirring gadgets on the shelves, it all spoke to the boy who had long since grown up.  
  
He walked over to the shelf and studied the contents. Everything he remembered was still there, including the ruby studded saber he had pulled out of the sorting hat, which was on the lowest shelf. On an impulse, he removed a covering, a covering that revealed memories when taken off. The Pensieve looked back at him, shimmering ethereally. Harry Potter looked, and smiled at the memories.  
  
A squawk sounded from behind the door. Fawkes was looking his radiant phoenix self, if fact so healthy he almost seemed to be burning. In his pocket, Harry's wand started getting warm, as though it felt good about getting close to its progenitor. The wizard smiled, and held out his arm to the fiery bird.  
  
With a flap, the red phoenix bridged the gap between them, and started licking his ear.  
  
Harry laughed. "Stop it Fawkes, stop it! I mean it! I'm here on official business!" But by now he was laughing too hard to continue.  
  
With a titanic effort, he controlled himself and got Fawkes to stop tickling him. With the phoenix still on his shoulder, Harry went over to the Pensieve, and looked deep into it. He could still remember accidentally sticking his nose into a place it didn't belong, which in that particular case was a wizarding courtroom.  
  
But now when he looked, it showed him a scene he and everyone else he knew wanted greatly to forget. A man in a dark cloak was standing outside a mansion. A woman, with long curly brown hair, wand in hand, rushed out of the house, and stood, screaming. Even though there were no sounds, he could remember her cries, bone piercing and horrible.  
  
From his point of view, which he now realized was Dumbledore's, he could see Ron and a person that had to be himself running up the hill towards the woman and the evil man. The view started to move as well. It swung down facing the ground, but Harry didn't need it, he could remember it all as though it had happened yesterday.  
  
The brown-haired woman had cast a spell, a powerful one, but it had had no effect on the man. With his hand held out, the beam of red light had simply bended around him, to hit a tree in the yard. The tree had exploded, and the light from the fire had illuminated the woman's face.  
  
And with a scream, Hermione Granger died, victim of a green beam of light and evil.  
  
Harry jumped, and slammed his head into the shelf above. He drew back, rubbing his head, trying to make the sight of his best friends death go away. But it wouldn't go away, his mind kept going over the situation, and he kept telling himself he should've done something. But he had been too far away, and Voldemort had already Disapparated away, leaving only Hermione's corpse and the Dark Mark, hovering in the sky above her house.  
  
"Looking in my Pensieve again Harry?" Dumbledores voice came from the doorway.  
  
Harry turned around to see the old man, now looking even older and aged. Lines of tension, only now beginning to go away, creased his face. Fawkes flapped off of his shoulder, after a quick nip at his ear, and settled on the old wizards arm.  
  
"You look well, Professor."  
  
"Don't we all, now that the threat is gone. This could be the heralding of a golden age for wizards. The number of Muggles that know about us wizards is expanding, and very soon we might make our presence known to more of them. It seems our friend Cedric has brought about peace and joy to the world of magic, and to the world of the non-magic as well." Dumbledore spoke slowly and calmly, devoid of stress.  
  
"Indeed, Professor. But, and I don't know how I know this, but I feel like some new danger is coming. Even worse than Voldemort. I really can't explain it."  
  
"My boy, you know I would never disregard anything you would say, especially not after all those years you were in school, after your first few years we all learned to trust your judgment, but we don't know anything about this threat. And, I doubt the Ministry would believe you, even with Fudge gone. I'll look into it though, thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.  
  
"I believe there was another matter I wanted to ask you about. Good thing you came, I was going to write a letter and send it off to you this very night! Ah, where was I? Oh yes, I need you to question several new Death Eaters that have been brought in. Apparently, they had been camped out in the woods of Albania, hoping their lord would come back. They are some of the inner-circle acolytes, and have been very hard to interrogate. But, obviously, you can't be harmed by them, so…" He trailed off.  
  
"I'm the one person who can safely question them." Harry finished for him, and then nodded. "I'd be happy to find out what they know."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. He didn't feel that this would give them any leads on the question in the back of everyone's minds concerning Voldemort's return, but it needed to be done. And with the Acolyte's innate, wand-less powers, Harry was the only one that could be safe.  
  
After an hour of speculative talk, about many things including Voldemort and Cedric's duel, Fawkes next self-immolation, and the various Weasly brothers, Harry got up to leave. And so with a last goodbye and thanks, Harry stepped onto the moving staircase, and walked out of Dumbledore's office.  
  
But instead of going out of the school and Apparating to Azkaban, he headed to Gryffindor tower. He was lost in a maze of memories. Everywhere he looked, a classroom, a portrait, a short cut, they all sparked memories of his days as a student in the majestic castle.  
  
After a roundabout route to Gryffindor tower (he couldn't resist stopping by to see Sir Cardogen again) he arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait. To Harry's surprise, she was there, looking sleepy. She smiled when she saw him, and opened for him before he even had a chance of giving the password he had gotten from Dumbledore. He went inside, and looked around the common room.  
  
Little had changed since the last time he had been there, 5 years before. The chairs still clustered in small groups, and around the fire in the center of the room. It still blazed merrily, even though all the students were away on summer holidays. Harry stopped to look around and sit down in the comfiest chairs by the fire, then got up and went to the very top of the spiral staircase, to a little known attic, placed in the very top cone of the tower.  
  
The door had not been opened in the last five years, judging by the dust that covered it. He pulled at the ancient iron handle, and slowly the heavy wooden door swung out, to reveal and ordinary chest. Made of iron and very unassuming, it stood of to the side, surrounded by the odds and ends only a place with Albus Dumbledore in residence could accumulate. Ignoring the clutter, Harry pulled a small iron key from his pocket, and fitted it into the lock. It fit perfectly, but he didn't turn the key just yet. Instead he pulled out his wand, the very same he had purchased from Ollivander all those years ago.  
  
"Lumos." He said. In response, his wand lit up, filling the dank attic with white light. Delicately, he put the flaring wand tip into a tiny, concealed hole underneath the keyhole. Leaving it there, he turned the key slowly, and opened the lid.  
  
Harry heard a click inside the chest, followed by a whirring sound, but he trusted in Dumbledore's instructions. On reflection, he realized he didn't want to know what would happen if the lighted wand wasn't put into the slot.  
  
"Thankfully, I'll never have to find out," He murmured to himself as he heaved the top of the chest up.  
  
Inside the chest, some of Harry's most precious items had been stored, in case he fell to Voldemort. But now, with the threat gone, possibly forever, he could safely retrieve them.  
  
A grubby parchment lay next to a shimmering length of cloth. He took out his wand (thankfully not triggering whatever trap was set) and tapped the parchment. The Marauders Map sprang to life. The school was empty, and so the map was useless, at least for the moment.  
  
The second item had the potential to be of more use. Harry scooped up the invisibility cloak, a gift from his dead father, and put it in a bag hanging from his shoulder. Then he folded the map, and put it in his pocket, though he doubted what it's usefulness would be.  
  
His task done, he departed the school. The Entrance Hall echoed with his solitary footsteps, a metaphor for his life. Everyone around him seemed distant, and in the back of his mind he could still feel the threat. Dumbledore had convinced him it would be looked into, but that wasn't making it go away.  
  
His mind felt confused, and he was still thinking about the premonition that had been hounding him for the last year, as he walked down the path to the gates, and Apparated away quietly. 


End file.
